


One by One

by LitDragonWagon



Series: All Aboard the Feels Train [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But cuddling makes them mostly go away, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Paladin Puppy Pile (tm), Platonic Cuddling, Shiro has nightmares, Shiro has some issues, Team Bonding, Team as Family, but his team make him feel better, interspersed with one on one bonding with space dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LitDragonWagon/pseuds/LitDragonWagon
Summary: Shiro remains in a state of Not Surprised about all the people who join him in his bed. (Just a cute fic about the paladins platonically sleeping together due to nightmares, and healing.)





	One by One

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my Voltron folder for months, and now, during a 2 AM writing binge, it is complete. A blessing. There’s no shipping in this, it’s completely gen. For context, this takes place in a nebulous place sometime before the defeat of the Galra, and about 2 years after canon (so everyone’s 2 year older, also). Also no Kuron or Shiro disappearing or Matt being found, yet, which is sad because Matt is a wonderful boy, but I started this during season 3, so...anyway, enjoy!

 

1.

He’s not surprised that Pidge is the first to join him. He remembers, back when she (he, they? He really should’ve gotten around to asking by now, but he only seems to remember when Galra drones are on his tail) wasn’t determindangrylost, but was just Katie, his best friend’s little sister. And since Matt was all but a little brother to him, looked up to him in a way that terrified him as much as it made him sheepishly proud, Katie was his little sister too (or at least that’s how he decided it worked, since he’d never had a real family of his own, but Matt was more than willing to share).

And when he was 17 and Pidge was 8 and Matt was already at Garrison (genius that he was-- _is_ ), and both of them were missing their brother, it wasn’t unusual to find Shiro in Katie’s room, the two of them squished into the young girl’s twin sized bed as he curled around her protectively and she rested her head on his chest.

So when he wakes up in the night, arm already whirring as he prepares to gut the enemy that dared to attack him in whatever hole in the wall he’d managed to carve out as his for the night, mind on the arena, Pidge is there, steady breathing both reassuring and alarming (because god did he miss her, but _god he could’ve killed her_ ). He can do nothing but relax, giving in to the inevitable and chuckling at her familiar grumbles as he shifts slightly to account for her weight.

Her toes are icy as always, and he remembers Matt teasing an angry 8 year old about how all the heat in her body must go to her brain, and said 8 year old grinding sharp knuckles viciously into his head until Shiro stepped in because he knew Matt would whine to him for hours if he didn’t (but he gave her a high five on the down low).

When he wakes up the next morning, groggy because he actually got a good night’s sleep, she’s watching him with cautious, ever-thinking eyes, and he just pats her on the head and asks what her preferred pronouns are because he’s finally remembered when they _aren’t_ in the middle of a battle and he’s gonna take full advantage of that. She snorts and says, “Honestly, I’m a bit too busy fighting aliens to worry about gender right now, Shiro,” and he nods because, sure. Sounds good. He’ll stick with what he’s used to then.

He rolls over, clutching her to his chest so that she’s directly under his arm because he _knows_ he didn’t shower last night, and she shrieks indignantly just like she always used to when they were younger and punches him in the stomach in a way that’s distinctly new, and he’s so glad he’s got his little sister back.

oOo

It’s not till a few days later that he has another nightmare, and it honestly surprises him that her presence held them off for this long, because he hadn’t slept without nightmares in...well, he can’t recall the last time. He doesn’t remember it (never remembers them when he wakes, just like the memories that sit heavily on the tip of his tongue, burning so hot that he can almost taste them), but he wakes with tears on his face and Matt on his mind and apologies streaming like silent prayers from his lips as he gasps for air that just won’t come.

And Pidge is there, a comforting and familiar weight over his torso, arms around him, and he finally says to her, “I’m _so sorry_ .” It’s gasped out around the weight of his guilt, a lump in his throat, choking him with every breath and he knows it’s not enough, _never_ enough because he was always the interloper in her family and he _broke_ it, just like he breaks everything he touches--

She sits up and he wants to pull her back down, but if she wants to get away he has no right to stop her. But she just places a hand on his chest, and grabs his arm (his _right_ arm even) and places it over her heart (and he hopes he won’t break that too).

“Shiro,” she says , and his eyes jerk to hers. “Take a deep breath with me.” She murmurs, and takes a breath to demonstrate. He feels her chest lift beneath his palm, and he finds himself copying her automatically; breathe in, breathe out, in, and out, until he’s no longer on the verge of hyperventilating, and he closes his eyes and forces himself to relax his muscles.

His eyes flinch back open when he feels a small hand on his face, and there’s Pidge giving him a look so ferocious he almost flinches. She leans in close and says fiercely, “Shiro, you _know_ I don’t blame you.”

He avoids her piercing gaze.

“Shiro!” She says insistently, and his eyes jerk back to hers. “I do _not_ blame you. This isn’t your fault!”

He takes a deep breath and replies unsteadily, “I left them behind. Matt and your father, _I left them behind_.” He runs a hand shakily through his unnaturally white hair, and quietly says, “I stayed in the arena to save them. But that meant that I couldn’t stay with them to protect them. What if they--what if Matt--because of me…”  His voice gives out on him, and he tries to clear the lump from his throat.

She doesn’t even flinch, stern yet compassionate eyes boring into his. She takes a moment to formulate her thoughts, a familiar look of concentration on her face, then finally says, “Shiro, It’s not like you just left my family. You were _taken_ from them, even when you tried to get them back.” She pauses and narrows her eyes at him. “You did try to get them back, right?”

He nods fiercely, almost angry, because he’d fought and clawed and killed and _begged_ to get them back, futile as he’d known it would be even then, and it had resulted in nothing more than humiliation and pain. And Pidge smiles gently at him and simply says, “Then it’s not your fault.”

And then, as though it’s as simple as that, she lays back down, squirming into place at his right side, and mumbles, “Now go back to sleep, black paladin. We’ve got a long day of training tomorrow, and there’s no coffee in space so I need my rest or I might try to kill Keith and Lance when they inevitably fuck up the teamwork exercises. Then we won’t be able to form Voltron and Allura’ll kick my ass.”

This is over for now, he knows. So he lets out a hoarse chuckle, relaxes, stretches his arm over her back, and watches her until her breathing steadies out. It’s a...freeing feeling, knowing that Pidge doesn’t blame him for the loss of her family, even if he doesn’t understand it.

2.

He’s almost less surprised that Keith’s the next one. It’s after a long day of training, arguing, eating, arguing some more, and defeating another of Zarkon’s creepy amalgamations (with even more arguing involved, of course), and he’s laying in his bed, left arm slung carelessly along the headboard, right arm holding a book that he bought at that space mall place from the earth store (because Lord of the Rings is a classic, even if Frodo’s struggles hit a little too close to home), elbow perched on Pidge’s back as she slumps along his right side. It’s _very_ late (or so his internal clock says, who even knows what time it is in space), his eyes are gritty, and he’s a little cold because _someone_ has stolen all the blankets to make a cocoon, but it’s not too bad.

There’s a quiet knock at his door, and as he quietly calls out his permission to enter, Keith comes in, wild eyed and panting. Shiro sits up slightly, concerned, and Pidge makes a sleepy, near-silent noise of protest at the motion. “Keith,” he says soothingly, because this is a pretty familiar scene (though it was years ago, it feels like yesterday), and Keith finally makes eye contact.

“Shiro,” he says, then stops as a full body shudder wracks his frame despite the blanket still wrapped around him (it’s ripped at one of the corners, some inane part of Shiro notes), and Shiro would lift the covers of his bed invitingly, but Pidge would probably bite him or something for waking her, so he merely lifts his left arm coaxingly toward the shivering brunette still standing in his doorway.

Keith doesn’t waste a moment, quickly stumbling his way over to the bed, practically falling into it, and curling under Shiro’s arm, burrowing into his side as he tries to stop himself from hyperventilating. And Shiro rubs his back soothingly, making sure his blankets are tucked around his shivering form, because he _knows_ how bad night terrors can get, and he’s thankful that Keith still trusts him enough to come to him when he has a night like this (despite the years and experiences and entire galaxies that have separated them).

They sit there in silence for a while, an hour maybe, Shiro reading his book and stroking his hand down Keith’s back, just like they used to do at the Garrison, when Shiro was less broken and Keith was healing and neither of them had anything bigger to worry about than keeping scholarship-worthy grades, or whatever slop the cafeteria was planning on trying to pass off for food. (When they were younger and more whole, two brothers against the world.)

When Keith’s breath is steady and his hands have finally stopped shaking, Shiro quietly asks, “Do you wanna talk about it?” He almost regrets it as Keith tenses slightly under his hand, but this is the routine, and he knows it may help (It never helped him, but maybe that’s because he never had anyone that he dared talk to).

Keith stays silent. His breathing evens out and Shiro thinks he might be asleep, but then he says, almost too quietly for Shiro to hear, “Just...don’t leave, okay?”

And Shiro keeps himself from bodily flinching because that would wake everyone and that’s the opposite of what he wants, but. The words still sting, even if he knows Keith didn’t mean it like that, didn’t mean it like _anything_ , but it cuts him to the quick because he never wanted to hurt those closest to him like this. Not Keith, not Pidge, not the Holts--and they’re a broken family now. Because of him?

He shakes his head harshly, the white tuft of hair a reminder that he’s not whole, he’s _broken_ , shattered pieces and parts of memories mashed back together and topped off with a shiny, alien arm that still startles him on occasion when he sees it out of the corner of his eye or reaches out--

He clicks his tongue to turn off the light and lays back, one arm over each of the Paladins by his sides, and wonders if he’ll have nightmares tonight.

oOo

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have nightmares. He wakes up, feeling more rested than the usual, to see Pidge and Keith glaring sleepily at each other over his chest, each one possessively clutching an arm to themselves. They haven’t seemed to notice he’s awake yet, so he just watches them for a moment, groggy and confused.

“You can’t have his right arm,” Pidge hisses, wrapping her arms more firmly around it, “It’s _mine_ to sleep under.”

Keith’s half-lidded glare intensifies, even as he rests his chin tiredly on Shiro’s left shoulder. “I don’t _want_ his right arm, that’s why I’m over _here_ .” he says, and before Shiro can wonder if there’s any meaning to that beyond Keith preferring his left side (maybe Keith doesn’t accept the changes the Galra have made to him, maybe Keith’s _uncomfortable_ with his right arm), Keith says, “I sleep on my right side, so if I was on that side I’d be facing the wall--” and some part of him relaxes.

Pidge seems to growl for a second, and then she says, “Then why were your arms on _my_ side of the Shiro? You already get to be the right arm of Voltron, is that not enough for you?!”

And Keith looks as confused as Shiro feels for a moment, and then asks, “Do...do you not want to be the left arm?”

Pidge hisses like an angry cat. “His right arm is _mine_!”

Keith replies, “No, I already said you can have Shiro’s right arm! I meant on Voltron, do you not want to be the left arm of Voltron? It...probably doesn’t matter which arm we are? They’re sentient robot lions, I’m sure that if we asked they could switch arms,” he sounds dubious, and Shiro takes a moment to picture Voltron with both its arms facing backward, the sword on the left and the shield on the right. It’s not a particularly heroic picture.

Pidge apparently agrees, and she stares at Keith for a moment, then laughs quietly until tears form in her eyes. And Keith watches her, confused, but smiling cautiously, until her laughter finally trickles off and she sticks out her right hand. “Alright Kogane, as long as you stay off _Shiro_ ’ _s_ right side, then I guess I don’t mind if you take left arm.” And Keith grins at her, reaching out his left hand to shake on it, and she grins back, and Shiro’s really glad that they’re bonding and all, but--

“If you two are done arguing over my arms, both of which are _mine_ by the way, then could you get off? I really need to pee.” Both of them jump like scalded cats, and give him wide eyed looks. He raises an eyebrow, and they both shoot off him, off the bed, and out the door before he can get another word in. He stares after them for a moment, then rolls out of bed with a groan because apparently this is his life now.

oOo

The next day, after another night with bodies boxing him reassuringly from each side, he bumps into Keith in the training room. He’s spent the morning wandering the castle (it’s larger than his previous cell, but is it still a prison? He’s trapped, he has to be prepared for battle at anytime, he can’t go _home_ \--sometimes the binds, loose as they are, chaffe). His thoughts are heavy and riddled with guilt and fear and grief, tight, like a ball and chain around his ankles. He honestly doesn’t know how no one else hears them klink.

So, when he walks into the training room (hoping to set the difficulty as high as it’ll let him and lose himself in cuttingburning _fighting_ ) and sees the red paladin going at it with a fairly high level training dummy, he’s ready to turn _right_ the fuck back around and hightail it out of there (because he can drown in his guilt without the object of said guilt right in front of him _thanks very much_ ).

Unfortunately, Keith happens to finish with the dummy just as he turns to leave, and notices him, calling out a cheerful, “Shiro!” So Shiro plasters a smile on his face and turns as a grinning Keith walks toward him.

“Keith,” he nods easily, “An agile takedown.” He adds when Keith seems expectant.

Keith huffs through his nose, his version of a chuckle, Shiro knows, and replies dismissively, “Thanks, I guess, but I’m sure you could’ve done it faster.” And Keith’s not wrong, but Shiro’s sure that if the red paladin had lived the life he’s lived, had fought and struggled and nearly died as he watched his blood flow through his fingers, thinking “If only I’d been quicker,” then he’d be just as fast Shiro.

“--to train?” He hears distantly, and he blinks back to the present, and to Keith, who’s already moved across the room

“Sorry, what?” He replies, berating himself.

Keith gives him a look that’s two parts amusement and one part concern, and repeats, “Did you come here just to stand around, or to train?” And Shiro could take this out, he knows, but well. He _did_ come here to work off some tension. So he shrugs, makes his way to a rack of weights, and ignores Keith’s snort as he picks up a pair of 80 pound dumbbells and begins his usual set. And soon he hears Keith and the training dummy crossing blades again, a soothing background.

It doesn’t take him long to finish up with the weights, so he sets them down and lowers himself to the floor to begin pushups and sit ups, and he finds himself orienting to face Keith, watching him as he does battle. He’s _good_ , second only to Shiro in combat. He’s fast on his feet as he darts around his opponent, and his muscles ripple with strength as he clashes blades with the mechanized bot. His moves are a bit flashy, sure, but Shiro attributes that to the folly of youth (and feels so _old_ for a moment too).

He only realizes he’s staring when Keith begins walking toward him, having finished his battle. Shiro finishes up the set he’s on, then sits up, just as Keith flops down to sit next to him, breathing heavily, but with a faint grin on his face.

“Arms up,” Shiro admonishes automatically, and Keith shoots him a dirty look before throwing himself petulantly to the floor and raising his arms above his head to make his breathing easier. Shiro ruffles his sweaty hair and Keith grumbles and squirms away from him, just like always. It feels so much like the past that for a moment it’s hot and the air smells like summer and cedar and he sees their old dojo around them--but then he blinks and he’s in the castle again, though Keith remains (as he should).

“You’ve improved.” He says, for lack of anything else to say as he begins stretching.

Keith seems to slump to the floor even more bonelessly, pulling his arms from above his head to rest by his side. “Well, yeah, it’s not like there was much else to do in that shack.” He says easily. Like it doesn’t rip a hole in Shiro’s chest every time he thinks of all Keith lost, over _him_ \--

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, then all but covers his mouth with his hand, because he didn’t mean to say that aloud.

Keith tilts his head and opens one eye to look at him, confused. “What for?” He asks.

“I just,” Shiro begins, hands spreading in a helpless gesture, then dropping. “Nevermind.” he decides.

“No,” Keith replies, going so far as to sit up, “What do you mean?” Keith’s raising an eyebrow at him, mouth set in a concerned frown.

So, he expands. “I mean,” he runs a hand restlessly over his crew cut, “None of this would’ve happened if I’d just stayed on Earth. I mean,” he grimaces, knowing this isn’t coming out right, “You wouldn’t have ended up in this whole ‘Defenders of the Universe’ mess if I’d just stuck around. I know your nightmares have gotten worse since, and you got kicked out of the Garrison looking for me--” Keith holds up a hand for him to stop, looking unimpressed, so Shiro allows his word vomit to end.

“Let me get this straight.” Keith says flatly. “ _You’re_ sorry because _I_ got kicked out of the Garrison, get to fly around space in a giant red lion, and because I have nightmares?” Shiro thinks that’s oversimplifying a much more complicated issue, but he supposes it’s close enough, so he nods.

Keith takes a deep breath, then says with a slight quirk of his lips, “First of all, how dare you try to take credit for me leaving the Garrison.” Shiro opens his mouth to speak, but Keith steamrolls over him.

“I was sick of it, Shiro.” He says, and that self-deprecating sneer shuts him up like nothing else. “I was sick of the sneers, the laughter, the pitying looks. It was always,” he pauses and continues in a falsetto, “Oh, that poor, orphan Kogane boy, or” he continues in a gruff approximation of Iverson , “Don’t think that just ‘cause you’re a charity case I’m gonna treat ya special, street trash.” And Shiro’s fist clenches with the desire to bury it in that man’s face.

“So, Shiro, you may have been the catalyst for me leaving, but you certainly weren’t the only cause.” Keith says, now calmer.

And okay, that guy is definitely on Shiro’s shit list now, but, “But your nightmares--” Shiro begins, and Keith explodes.

“Jesus Christ, Shiro!” He yells, shooting to his feet, “You were fucking kidnapped!”

“Language,” Shiro scolds automatically, and Keith rakes his hands angrily through his hair.

“Forget my fricking language, Shiro!” He shouts, and Shiro can’t help but let out a huff of laughter, because that’s exactly how 16 year old Keith had responded the first time they’d argued with each other, and it’s just as funny now as it was then, if not funnier. The only warning he gets is an indignant growl, then Keith tackles him.

They grapple on the floor for a moment, all flailing limbs and pinching fingers and squawks when an elbow or a knee lands somewhere tender, until Keith manages to pin him. And he’d like to say he let him win, but Keith’s always been a scrappy little thing (and they’re not actually trying to hurt each other, so burning Keith with his hand would be overkill).

Keith’s got his knees on either side of Shiro’s thighs, his shins holding Shiro’s legs down, the full weight of his upper body pinning Shiro’s wrists to the ground. Then he grins like the little shit he is, and lets a huge gob of drool start to form in his mouth.

“ _Don’t-you-fucking-dare_ ,” Shiro blurts, struggling again, but Keith’s hold is too firm.

“Say it’s not your fault.” Keith says, slightly garbled.

“Keith,” Shiro almost whines, then his eyes go wide as drool starts to drip down toward his face. “ _Keith_!” he practically shrieks, several octaves above his norm, and the red paladin raises his eyebrows as though to say, ‘You know what I want’.

The drool is slowly coming closer to his face, and really that’s _so fucking gross_ , so he desperately rips his left wrist from Keith’s grasp, and digs his fingers into Keith’s side. Keith immediately falls away from him, clutching his side as he snorts with laughter, and Shiro scrambles to his feet, sticking his tongue out at Keith and fleeing as he hears indignant cries behind him.

And when they go to bed that night, having called a truce during dinner, Keith mumbles, half asleep, “You know I don’t blame you, right?” And Shiro nods into his hair. “So we’re good, right?” Keith asks, and Shiro replies, “We’re good, little brother.” And Keith smiles and burrows into his side, and that’s that.

3.

The third to join him is Hunk, and it’s actually hilarious.

Shiro comes back to his room after a long evening of rehashing details with Allura over exactly how their next mission is going to go. And he means _exactly_ , he still has blueprints and certain word phrases burned into his mind’s eye. Yes, both he and Allura know that no plan survives contact with the enemy, but she’s stubborn enough to find minute details to stress over and he’s willing to let her do so with _him_ so she can keep a strong facade up for the other 4 paladins (because he understands the strain of being a leader, of being the one that everyone turns to, of being a pillar of strength regardless of his own uncertainties and fears). Still, at this point he’s definitely ready to get some shut eye.

But, when he walks into his room after having taken a nice long shower in the communal  bathroom, he finds an unfamiliar sight. Hunk has laid himself out along the far left side of the bed curled on his side, his back to the wall and right arm curled to his chest, left arm outstretched in front of him. Keith’s head is pillowed on Hunk’s arm and he’s sleeping as he always does, on his stomach with his arms beneath his head. Though, since Hunk’s arm is in the way, Keith’s arms are under his, with his head resting on Hunk. Pidge is to the far left of the bed, curled into a cocoon as she always is, and in the middle is Shiro’s usual spot, clear.

He eyes them all for a moment, wondering how this had happened, then just shrugs and lays himself down, careful not to wake anyone, because he honestly doesn’t even mind. It seems that the more paladins he collects, the fewer nightmares he has, so...this is a symbiotic arrangement. Keith shuffles his lower body closer, hip now alongside Shiro’s, and Pidge rolls her whole cocoon a bit more toward him so that he can place his right arm over her, but no one wakes. Shiro tucks his left arm beneath his head and absentmindedly strokes his right over Pidge’s mass of blankets. Then, he drifts off.

oOo

He wakes to chaos, Hunk blushing as he stammers to anyone who’ll listen that he, “Actually thought this was my room, my bad guys, I’m _so_ sorry,” even as Pidge mumbles, “Too early, what in the actual fuck, fuck the universe,” and nuzzles into Shiro’s side, and Keith lets out a wordless grumble, burrowing his face deeper into Hunk’s arm, and Allura’s yelling, “Paladins, get to your lions!” over the sound of the castle’s alarm blaring.

For a moment, Shiro actually considers grabbing a pillow to drown out the noise and just going back to sleep, but then he remembers that he’s supposed to be the responsible adult, and lets out a heavy sigh. He shoves Pidge off the bed to an indignant squawk, pulls Keith over himself to do the same, and gives Hunk a raised eyebrow because he’s out of reach and Shiro will be damned if he has to lift _one more person out of his bed this morning_.

“You all heard Allura,” he says over the annoyed groans from the floor, “Let’s suit up and get to our lions.” Pidge glares at him, Keith tucks his head into Pidge’s side and seems to fall back asleep, and Hunk hasn’t stopped blushing and stammering yet so Shiro doesn’t even know if he’s heard him. Shiro lets his head fall back into his pillows and groans, because sometimes being the defenders of the universe sucks.

And then, at the end of the day when they’re all exhausted and have defeated Zarkon’s latest monster and freed another planet from Galran rule, and Pidge and Keith are already tucked against his sides asleep, Hunk comes skulking back in sheepishly, and Shiro just smiles at him welcomingly.

oOo

It’s the middle of the night, and Shiro’s on a self-imposed mission. This mission (since he’s chosen to accept it) is 3 fold.

  1. Find Hunk
  2. Return him to bed by any means necessary
  3. Get food



(3.5 Reduce the restlessness forcing him into twitchy stoicism that had gotten him kicked out of his own bed)

So here he is, headed for the kitchen, because he’ll probably find all of his objectives there. It’s not a real mission, he supposes, but he still finds himself steadying his breathing so that it’s silent, and lightening his footsteps to avoid detection. He feels eyes on him and looks around, only to see the red eyes of one of Allura’s mice staring at him. He smiles awkwardly at it, prepared to straighten up, but the mouse creeps over to him, holding a paw to its mouth and winking.

Well alright then.

He makes it to the kitchen easily, as his sense of direction is pretty much unparalleled (the mouse lead the way), and the mouse winks at him one more time before wandering off to do whatever space mice do in their free time. Honestly he tries not to think about it too hard; he still...doesn’t really get the mice. Regardless, he transitions from a crouch to a normal walk, and makes his way into the kitchen, where it appears Hunk is trying to bake again. Unsurprising, since he tends to do so after they go to new planets and get new ingredients to try. It looks complicated though.

“Hey, what are you making?” Shiro asks politely. Then he proceeds to flinch _very_ hard and catch the bowl that Hunk reflexively throws at him.

“Shiro?!” Hunk wheezes out, one hand to his chest, “Jesus, man, you scared the hell out of me!” Hunk laughs self deprecatingly, his shoulders slowly coming down from where he’d hunched them up around his ears, and he scrubs one large hand through his shaggy hair. “We need to get you a bell, dude.”

Shiro shrugs apologetically, returning the bowl, and carefully doesn’t mention how bad that would be for their missions against the galra, because he understands that his definition of humor apparently makes other people uncomfortable (thank you, Pidge). “So, what are you making?” He repeats instead, making his way around Hunk to sit on the counter, out of the way, because he understands that hovering around people apparently makes them uncomfortable ( _thank you_ , Pidge).

“I’m not quite sure,” Hunk replies with a smile, “I’m sort of just...combining things that smell like they go together.” Shiro nods like he gets how cooking works, because he understands that just staring blankly at people apparently makes them uncomfortable (thank you Pidge he understands he needs socializing lessons because he was _in captivity for a year okay, fuck off_ ). “You’re welcome to hang around here with me, I guess, but I won’t be doing anything all that interesting.” Hunk continues with an embarrassed laugh.

“I’d be happy to stick with you.” Shiro says with a smile, because um, yes? Obviously he will remain and be a guinea pig, because Hunks dishes always work out in either a tasty or comically disgusting way, and he’s down to clown with either of those things (also, this works well with his mission objectives, and if he sits here and yawns he may be able to trick Hunk into being sleepy. Lance told him you can do that--it worked on Shiro, anyway). Hunk’s definitely his favorite paladin (don’t tell the others) because the guy does what he’s told, he’s reliable, he cooks _great food_ , he’s practically a space heater so Shiro’s never needed to retrieve more blankets, and he only ever argues with Lance.

And really, who _doesn’t_ argue with Lance? Not even maliciously, just--he’s found them arguing over whether the sky of the last planet they were on was periwinkle or light blue, okay? He’s pretty sure that arguing is how Lance does bonding. Hunk and Keith had been firmly on the light blue side (“It’s obviously more blue than purple,” and “Periwinkle isn’t even a color is it, you’re lying” respectively) while Pidge and Lance had been team periwinkle (“I can’t believe this, betrayed by my fellow scientist,” and “Of course it’s a color, didn’t you ever watch Blue’s Clues???”). He’s sure they’d be arguing to this day if Allura hadn’t walked in and told them it was some weird alien color none of them could pronounce.

Shiro’s asked her, though, it doesn’t really exist. She just wanted them to stop arguing. He’s honestly impressed, but he guesses that, as a government official, she has to be good at bullshitting.

He realizes he’s been zoning out and staring at Hunk’s hands as the other man chops and mashes and stirs and who knows what else, so he blinks and stretches his arms above his head with a yawn (soon Hunk will be tired, he’s sure of it). Hunk grins at him, and opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by the quiet ping of the makeshift oven he and Pidge had crafted from cannibalized alien technology pieces and parts.

“Looks like my...whatever these might be, are done!” Hunk declares, and pulls them from the oven, placing them on the counter next to Shiro.

They look like tiny cakes, and they’re honestly adorable, so he coos over one as he picks it up with his metal hand to avoid burns. Tiny versions of normal sized things are really cute, okay?

He looks up from his inspection of the food, and Hunk’s giving him this gentle, amused, slightly surprised smile. Suddenly he’s embarrassed. He’s supposed to be this great leader, hardened warrior, and here he is squealing over small food. He can’t afford to be weak in front of those he’s leading, how can they rely on him then? He ducks his head a bit and frowns.

He starts a bit when Hunk puts a hand on his shoulder, ducking down to meet his eyes. “Hey, no need for that, man.”

Shiro just shakes his head with an awkward smile, avoiding eye contact as he quickly unfolds his legs and stands. “No need for what? I’m gonna head to bed, thanks for the foo--”

He blinks owlishly as he finds himself back on the counter he just vacated, Hunk looking sternly at him. See, sometimes Shiro forgets that Hunk is made of muscle, but Hunk never forgets. He just usually doesn’t use his power for evil. Normally he’s helping Pidge get things from high places by lifting her up, or carrying Lance around on his shoulders because he can, or moving a sleeping Keith from the uncomfortable couches in the main room to a bed. Normally he _isn’t_ preventing Shiro from making an escape.

“No, seriously,” Hunk says, and Shiro yanks his mind back on track, “We don’t respect you because you’re stoic and unreachable; we respect you because you’re relatable, kind, and always ready to listen. Well,” he pauses and gives Shiro an amused look, “Other than a few seconds ago. And when Pidge started complaining about space pads.” his smile fades a bit, now less amused and more fond. “Plus, you’re willing to admit when you don’t know what to do and ask for help, which we all appreciate.”

Shiro blurts, “I rarely know what to do,” then winces.

But Hunk is unphased, and replies, “Then we’ll all learn together.” he levels Shiro with a stern look, “Even though you may be our leader, it doesn’t mean you’re on a pedestal. You get support just like everyone else, because we’re a _team_.” he says kindly.

This is another of Hunk’s powers that Shiro isn’t usually on the receiving end of; his ability to _read minds_ and immediately figure out what’s wrong with people, and always know just what to say. Shiro knows it’s not _really_ reading minds, of course, but Hunk’s innate compassion and empathy make it seem like it for sure.

So Shiro smiles and says, “This is why you’re my favorite paladin.”

Hunk blushes, grins, says, “I bet that what you say to all the paladins,” and gives him more food.

4.

Shiro’s sitting up, reading again, when he hears a knock at his door. He quietly calls for the person to come in, wary of waking any of his bedmates, though they’re all pretty heavy sleepers. When Lance’s head comes poking its way around his doorframe, Shiro can’t help but chuckle at his wide eyed look, and beckon him closer, but his grin drops when he sees the bags under Lance’s eyes and the way his hands are shaking with exhaustion.

He sets his book down, concerned, and Lance trips his way forward. He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed and kneels down, his chin resting tiredly next to Keith’s right foot (and Shiro thinks he would’ve shot it a dirty look, if not for the fact that he’s obviously exhausted right now), and blinks up at Shiro tiredly.

“Nightmares?” Shiro asks sympathetically, and Lance nods, then seems to lose what little energy was holding his head up, and presses his whole face into the bed sheets. “Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro asks, and Lance nods again against the bed, though he doesn’t move any further. For a long moment Shiro thinks he may have either suffocated himself or fallen asleep, but then Lance sits up, pillowing his chin on his arms.

“It’s usually someone dying.” And Shiro carefully doesn’t flinch under Lance’s heavy gaze. “And it’s always my fault. I’m not fast enough, not strong enough, and everyone blames me and I _know_ that hasn’t happened, but it’s always in the back of my mind. I’m not smart like Pidge or Hunk. I’m not strong like you. I’m not fast like Keith. I’m not the leader of a fallen race, I’m not a castle mechanic. I’m just...here.” He huffs out a sigh, eyes sad and distant, then he blinks heavily.

And Shiro opens his mouth to tell him _no_ , it’s _nothing like that_ , Lance is _important_ . He’s their sharp-shooter, he’s the optimist in a ship of pessimists, he’s brave and courageous and he’s not, he’s not _worthless_ like he seems to think he is--but then Lance is continuing before he can say anything.

“I just--” he says quietly, “I miss home sometimes, you know? I miss my brothers and sisters, and I miss my mom and dad, and my tias and tios and my abuelita and--” he trails off and Shiro feels something clench inside him. It’s a mixture of empathy and jealousy, an odd thing he knows, but it’s just...he knows how Lance feels, because he misses the Holts like they were his family. But at the same time, he’s _never_ had what Lance has, and he never will, and that _hurts_ sometimes--

“But,” Lance continues, and Shiro tunes back in sharply because this is _not about him_ , “I know I’m protecting them by being out here, fighting Zarkon and the Galra, and…” he trails off for a moment, looking away, then looks up almost shyly and says, “And you guys are my family too now. Even if I could go back, I wouldn’t want to, not unless you guys could come back too. You and Hunk and Keith and Pidge and Pidge’s family and Allura and Coran--all you guys.”

And Shiro’s throat feels tight and there’s something in his eyes (it might be tears), but before he can say anything ( _again_ ), Pidge mumbles, “Oh my god, get up here you giant doofus.” A quiet sniffle jerks his head to the left and Hunk is wide awake, tears in the corners of his eyes. Their eyes lock for a moment and Hunk sniffs again and says, “That was just--so beautiful,” and one of his hands comes up to cover his face. Shiro looks down at Keith, whose body is too rigid and breathing too steady and ears too red to really be asleep, then back down to Lance who’s looking at the tableau on the bed with wide eyes and a flushed face.

So Shiro smiles and asks, “Well, you coming up?” And Lance beams at all of them, as though they hung the moon and the stars, and stands.

There’s not exactly a lot of space anymore. In fact, Shiro would reluctantly go so far as to say that there is _no_ space on his bed for another person, but Lance disagrees, and Lance is the man with a plan. He crawls onto the bed, careful to avoid kneeling on others’ limbs, until he’s sprawled out with his feet where Pidge’s would be if she wasn’t short and in a constant cocoon, his legs over Shiro’s, his torso over the back of Keith’s legs, and his head pillowed on Hunk’s side.

And Shiro honestly doesn’t know how that can possibly be comfortable, but apparently it is, because within a few breaths, Lance is out. Hunk smiles at him before following, Pidge lets out a wordless grumble at the invasion of her side of the Shiro but allows it, and Keith just turns his head, a slight smile on his face. And Shiro grins widely, turns out the lights with a click of his tongue, leans back, and goes to sleep himself.

oOo

Shiro’s in the lion hangar, staring blankly up at Black, who stares down at him just as blankly. “Why did you chose me?” He whispers, but she doesn’t answer. “Why did you chose me?!” He yells, angrily, and she remains motionless for a moment, then leans down so that her face is in front of him. For a moment he thinks she’s going to open up, maybe the answer will be in her cockpit, framed in light and written in altean, but she doesn’t do anything more, and there’s just sad, quiet purring somewhere in the back of his mind. He puts a hand on her enormous nose, and feels himself deflate until he’s resting his full weight against her solid bulk.

Their latest mission had gone awry. Everyone’s in the healing pods other than him and Coran, and if he hadn’t been so _stupid_ , if he’d directed them better then his team wouldn’t be...wouldn’t be--

He’s lost in thought and doesn’t notice Lance approaching him until the boy (wait, he’s 20 now, Shiro needs to stop thinking of his team as his children) is standing almost directly in front of him, shifting awkwardly and babying his ribs. He pushes off Black, who remains motionless, and says, “Lance! What are you doing out of the pods?” He can’t help but hover a bit, his hands reaching out as though to steady the other man, but he pulls them back.

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance replies with a weak smile, “Yeah, Coran said I shouldn’t go into the pods because too many times is bad for uh, fleshy, frail humans, and it’s just bruising.”

“Oh,” Shiro replies, “Then why aren’t you in bed? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Lance shrugs one shoulder, “Coran sent me here, I’m not sure why. If you want me to leave, though, I totally can.”

“No, no,” Shiro replies, and carefully _doesn’t_ say that the thought of Lance walking anywhere else in the state he’s in is giving him anxious fits, “I’m happy for the company.” He sits down, his back to Black’s nose, and pats the ground to his left. “Sit with me?” He asks when Lance doesn’t move, and Lance gives him a small smile before joining him, copying his position of crossed legs and leaning against Black’s nose, their knees barely touching.

It’s weird, seeing Lance like this. That’s not to say that there isn’t plenty of opportunity for sadness in the life of a Paladin of Voltron, but...it’s just that Lance doesn’t usually show this side of himself to Shiro. He wants to cheer him up, and wishes he could, but that’s really more Hunk, or Pidge, or even Keith’s area of expertise. Everytime _he_ talks to Lance, it seems like the boy shrinks in on himself. Even now, after 2 years of interacting and a month of sleeping in the Paladin Puppy Pile (™) , Shiro still feels like, for some reason, Lance is uncomfortable with him.

Still, he can’t just... _not_ , right? So, he clears his throat, makes eye contact, and says, “So, are you feeling okay?” It’s not the best lead in, but he’s...honestly never been all that good at this kind of thing. He’s not sure how he’s faked it thus far. Probably has to do with already knowing Keith and Pidge (the two who would’ve judged him the most), Hunk being an absolute star of a human being, Lance pretty much avoiding him outside of combat and team dinners, and Allura and Coran not knowing enough about human interaction to realize that Shiro’s sometimes an awkward can of beans.

For a moment Lance’s lips twist into a facsimile of their normal exuberance, but as the seconds tick by and Shiro doesn’t respond in any way other than continued staring, the expression slips off, leaving something far more tired and worn.

“I just,” he starts, then stops and stares at the hangar wall somewhere to the left of Shiro’s ear. Shiro lets the words sit in the air, and doesn’t respond, because if space has taught him anything, it’s patience. “It’s just hard being reminded how much I suck, is all.” Lance finally say, then laughs awkwardly.

Shiro blinks, confused. It’s an...ego thing? That doesn’t sound like Lance at all, he _knows_ he’s understanding wrong. “What do you mean?” He asks softly.

Lance’s gaze sweeps over his face to hover somewhere around his right cheek, still avoiding eye contact. “You can say it, you know.” he says, and there’s something angry in his voice.

Shiro raises an eyebrow, even more confused. “Say what?”

Lance finally meets his gaze, and his eyes are full of a mix of bitterness, self loathing, and hostility. “That I don’t belong on the team. That I’m worthless. That you guys don’t need me around. That it would be better off if anyone else had been chosen to pilot Blue. That I’m _useless_.” It’s spat with so much vitriol, and Lance leans toward him with each statement. Shiro feels himself flinch back, eyes wide.

Is...is this what Lance thinks? Is this what Lance thinks the other paladins are thinking? Is this why Lance is uncomfortable around him??

“Lance,” Shiro says weakly, and the fire in Lance’s eyes putters out. He slumps back against Black like he doesn’t have the strength to sit up anymore.

“Just say it.” Lance says, staring at the wall across from them with eyes that are blank of their habitual sparkle.

Shiro’s heart feels tight in his chest--it feels like something’s winding around his lungs, making him breathless. How, _how_ did he not see that one of his team was hurting like this?? What good is he as a team leader if he can’t even--

“Lance, I’m _sorry_.” He gasps out, and Lance turns to look at him, cautious, “I-I didn’t know you--none of that is true!” Shiro stands, paces restlessly for the space of a few seconds as he gathers his thoughts, then crouches down so that he’s in front of Lances crossed legs. Lance doesn’t seem particularly receptive, eyes closed off, and Shiro puts his flesh hand on Lance’s right knee to ground himself.

“Who was the one who shot the bomb trigger out of Krundav’s hand from two kilometers away?” He asks abruptly.

Lance replies, “Me, but--” with a confused frown, but Shiro cuts him off.

“Do you think anyone else on the team could do that?” he asks.

“Well, given enough time, you or Hunk could probably--” he says, brows furrowed, and Shiro cuts him off again.

“ _No_ , Lance. We couldn’t. My weapon is short range only, and Hunk’s is made for laying down heavy fire, not precision. Not to mention, _none_ of us could hit something that far away with _any_ degree of accuracy. There would’ve been major loss of life if you hadn’t been there.” Lance is still frowning at him, so he tries again.

“Who did Blue allow to fly her?” he asks.

“Me, but--” Lance begins, and Shiro cuts him off again.

“Keith knew her for _months_ and she chose you over him. Without you, we never would’ve even made it off Earth alive, and the galra would still be terrorizing those parts of the galaxy that we’ve freed. Civilizations are freed because _you_ allowed Voltron to take its first steps.” He thinks about adding in a leg related pun here, but ultimately decides against it, because this is _terrible_ timing for his gallows humor, and there’s something vulnerable in Lance’s expression, so Shiro decides to press his advantage.

“Who managed to cheer up Pidge on her birthday?” he asks with a quirk of his lips.

“Me.” Lance replies quietly.

“Who managed to get Keith to come out of his shell through arguing?”

“Me.”

“Who’s been gathering Hunk cooking ingredients at great personal risk everytime we get on a new planet?”

“Me.”

“Who’s the final piece of the Paladin Puppy Pile?”

“...me?”

“Yes, you.” Shiro says with a smile. “You’re our sharpshooter, the first lion pilot, and you’re an optimist with social skills on a ship full of introverts, pessimists, and people who are so smart they’re stupid. You keep us from clashing, you help us all get along, and you glue us all together. Of _course_ we need you! You’re team, you’re family!”

More softly, he says, “You’re not worthless Lance, you’ve never been. And useless? You’re the furthest thing from it.”

There’s tears in Lance’s eyes, and for a moment Shiro’s not sure if he made it better or worse. But then he’s got an armful of blue paladin hugging the life out of him, so he figures he did _something_ right. He hugs back just as fiercely (but _carefully_ because he’s stronger than he expects sometimes), and all the lions are purring and it’s really quite nice.

Then Coran’s on the loudspeaker saying that Allura requires their assistance in locating Hunk’s stash of sweets, and they pull apart, look each other in the eye, and begin laughing.

oOo

It should probably be awkward, them all sleeping in the same bed together, especially because Lance and Keith have their weird sexual tension thing going on. But it’s not? Really, it isn’t. Quarrels are left at the door (because the one time everyone had started arguing (Lance maintains that it was Keith’s fault) Shiro had kicked them out with little remorse. At least until he woke up in the middle of the night with no one stealing the blankets and no cold feet jabbing into his shins and no quiet snoring to balance out the absolute silence of space), blankets are retrieved from _everyone’s_ rooms so that no one’s left with cold feet (except for Pidge, but she doesn’t count), and everyone’s started keeping their armor in Shiro’s closet in case of Voltron related emergencies.

And honestly, Shiro has _never_ slept better, even when he was younger and had less on his plate. It soothes him, to have his family within his reach when he sleeps.

It’s not perfect. Sometimes someone will fall off the bed, or get kicked, or someone snores. Sometimes someone decides they want to sleep alone that night, and there’s an empty hole where they should be. Sometimes someone forgets to shower and has to be kicked out until they do so, then come groveling back with puppy dog eyes and fresh clothes on.

But honestly? They wouldn’t have it any other way.

oOoOoOo

**_Fin_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s that! As a bonus, Allura sometimes ninjas her way in there. Shiro’s not sure how she does it without waking anyone, and she always leaves before anyone wakes up, but he finds her hair in the sheets, so. They find Coran sleeping under the bed one morning, and unanimously decide to take the pillows and blankets from Hunk’s room (which hasn’t been pilfered because he’s a literal space heater and doesn’t actually need blankets) and make the man a sort of nest. He enthusiastically thanks them for it.
> 
> Come bug me on Tumblr! I’m LitDragonWagon, and I’d love to be bugged XD.
> 
> Also, there’s a possibility that I might write more for this universe. Cute oneshot typa things; broships and actual shipping ships, possibly boats as well XD. Tell me if you’re interested!


End file.
